A/N: After Kurt turns down Sebastian's suggestion that he should move to New York with him, Sebastian disobeys his Dom by coming up with a plan to get him there anyway. But first, Sebastian has to get everything ready, in the hopes that he'll give Kurt no way or reason to say no.
Immediately follows "A Dalton Boy with Secrets to Tell"
"So, when am I going to see you again, preppy?" Kurt asks, sucking Sebastian's lower lip into his mouth and biting down, but not as hard as usual. He runs hands with freshly painted nails – Zoya Raven black nails that Sebastian painted, from a bottle he had bought his Dom to replace the cheap-ass Wet 'n Wild crap he normally wore – down Sebastian's back and over his ass, getting his fill of his sub's taut rear before he sends him on his way.
"Well," Sebastian mutters with his lip still pinched between Kurt's teeth, "I'm having dinner with my folks tomorrow night…"
"Boo," Kurt cuts in, abandoning Sebastian's lip to nibble on his chin.
"You're more than welcome to come, Master," Sebastian says, going in for a deeper kiss.
"Pass," Kurt says with a smile before Sebastian bends Kurt back and captures his mouth.
"Invitations open, Master," Sebastian whispers, rutting lightly against his Dom's crotch before he claims another kiss. "I think they'd like to meet you."
"Mmm," Kurt hums at the constant pressure of his sub's erection passing over his own. "Yeah, but…mmm…I don't exactly do parents, or dinners, or…you know..."
"Mmm-hmm," Sebastian remarks, showing his contempt for his Dom's excuses without so many words. "But you'd do me if I came over, Master."
"Fuck yeah," Kurt breathes against Sebastian's mouth. "Over and over," he murmurs in a low, sultry growl, trying to tempt Sebastian to come back inside, take off his clothes, and stay, "until you couldn't fuckin' walk straight."
"Oh, God," Sebastian moans, slipping his hands beneath Kurt's skin-tight black t-shirt.
"Well, what about Tuesday night?" Kurt asks when he notices Sebastian hasn't made a move towards the bedroom, knowing logically that his sub does have to get back to school. Kurt said so before – Sebastian is smart. He has a future, one that doesn't include aging Doms and their egos. But Kurt takes the liberty of enjoying this closeness, even with clothes and coats on, his hands feeling around Sebastian's hip, one latching on to his belt and the other sneaking down in front, rubbing at the seam along the fly of his jeans.
Sebastian's next breath shudders, and Kurt sneaks his tongue in his mouth, running the barbell in his tongue along his hard palate.
"Mmm, I'm free Tuesday night, Master," Sebastian says, leaving Kurt's lips to kiss down his neck.
"Maybe you can bring a bag? Spend the night?" Kurt sucks in a sharp breath when Sebastian latches on and bites…hard. God, he was learning all of Kurt's vulnerable spots, everywhere he liked to be licked and touched and kissed, all the various, deviant ways he loved to be fucked. It's gotten to where Kurt has more hickeys on his body than tattoos, something he tries so hard to avoid, if not for looks, than for his own sanity…and he doesn't give a fuck.
"Is that what you want, Master?" Sebastian whispers. Kurt doesn't hear his sub's question. He feels it, in light, trembling words that trip along the goose bumps forming on his neck, skipping from nerve to nerve, all the way to his toes, with a long stop over at his cock, which is already trying to break through the zipper in his jeans.
"Yes," Kurt moans, rutting against Sebastian faster, wanting desperately to cum in Sebastian's arms and not alone with his fleshjack in the shower. "That's what I want."
"Then I will, Master." Sebastian's lips leave Kurt's neck and travel down his body, kissing him over his shirt, tracing the lines of tattoos underneath that Sebastian knows by heart.
"Good," Kurt says as his sub drops slowly to his knees in front of him, hands and lips and occasionally tongue blazing a trail down his chest and abs. "I-I'll make dinner…" Kurt stutters when Sebastian's hot breath grazes his stomach. "We'll hit the club, that way we can annoy the shit out of Elliott by making out in front of him all night. Maybe you'll even get naked."
"Mmm," Sebastian hums against Kurt's zipper, sending shivers shooting up his shaft through his pants. "Well, then…I'll be there with bells on then, Master."
Kurt chuckles. "I thought you'd like that, preppy."
"I do, Master," Sebastian says, mouthing hungrily, impatiently, over the bulge in Kurt's jeans. "I really…really…do."
"How much?" Kurt asks, bending his back and stretching his arms over his head, pushing his hard-on in his sub's face, demanding more.
"So much, Master, that it makes me hard thinking about it," Sebastian says. "Sitting in your lap, biting your neck, calling you Daddy…"
Sebastian pulls Kurt's zip down a few inches, and that's all he has to do. Kurt's cock, desperate for friction or any kind of attention, springs free from Kurt's jeans, shoving the zip the rest of the way without Sebastian having to do a thing other than wrap his lips around it and suck.
Sebastian takes his Dom completely down his throat, and then pulls away slowly, slowly, so slowly, Kurt starts to move with him.
"Oh, God," Kurt moans, grabbing Sebastian's hair with one hand, the other creeping up the wall behind him. Trapped in Kurt's doorway, with the front door slightly ajar, Sebastian sucks Kurt down hard, then reluctantly lets him go, pulling and pushing with no break in between, no loss of contact, no coming up for air, no release in suction until Kurt cums, which he does too quickly for Sebastian's liking.
So, like the cocky sub he is (at least, that's what Kurt has come to call him), Sebastian goes after one more of Kurt's orgasms.
"Preppy!" Kurt squeals, pushing at Sebastian's forehead, pulling his hair. "Preppy, no! Preppy, stop! Preppy..."
"That's not the safeword, Master," Sebastian teases, grabbing his Dom's wrists and holding them. He knows he'll pay for this later, but Goddammit, it's going to be worth it.
"Preppy," Kurt growls in warning, rolling his wrists in Sebastian's grip – a stronger grip than Kurt ever realized his little lacrosse player had. "Preppy, no…Sebastian, don't…Sebas…Seb-oh, God…"
The masochist Kurt is, he lets Sebastian have this, giving in when his sub sucks past the point of oversensitivity to the other side, where another wonderful climax awaits him in the depths of his sub's throat, and the hot, wet sheath of his mouth.
Sebastian won't get the chance to cum until later, when he gets back to Dalton and jumps in a hot shower, but he doesn't care. He wants to do this for Kurt, drain him dry, leave him tingling and satisfied, so he can stumble off to bed, light a cigarette, and eventually drift off to sleep with the buzz of Sebastian's lips on his skin.
"Oh, Sebastian," Kurt moans, his body sinking down towards his sub's mouth. "Sebastian, yes…oh, God, yes…"
More and more, Sebastian doesn't mind getting on his knees for Kurt.
More and more, it feels like exactly where he belongs.
That's why Sebastian has to do everything he can not to let Kurt get away.
Sebastian pulls out of Kurt's neighborhood with his cock aching in his jeans, and a bright red hand print across his cheek, but best of all, the taste of Kurt on his tongue. Every time he breathes, every time he swallows, it's there.
It's more than worth all five slaps to the face Kurt gave him, even if he used his nails on the first three.
Once Sebastian hits the freeway, he puts his iPhone on speaker and dials his father. Normally, he'd wait till he got home, till he came down from the high he gets from being punished or from giving Kurt pleasure, but Sebastian has an idea – a fabulous idea – and he can't wait to get it rolling.
Sebastian's father picks up on the fifth ring, while Sebastian's licking his lips and adjusting his crotch.
"Sebastian?" his father's voice comes over Sebastian's Bluetooth speaker, filling the car.
"Dad," Sebastian says, clearing his throat of Kurt for the moment.
"Hey, son," his father says, sounding happy to hear from him, and Sebastian remembers, with a healthy amount of guilt, that he hasn't spoken to his mother or father, not to mention seen them, for a few weeks now. "How are you doing? Busy with school?"
"Yeah," Sebastian lies. "You know how it is – the mad dash to graduation. A lot of loose ends to tie up. I'm sorry I haven't been available much."
"Well, as long as you're making good use of your time, I think we can spare you a few weekends."
"Thanks for understand," Sebastian says, wanting to kick himself for being such an asshole son. Then he suddenly thinks that kicking him is something Kurt might enjoy doing, with his vinyl, pointy-toed stiletto boots, before he makes Sebastian polish them with his tongue, or jerk himself off between them, on stage in front of everyone at his club, and his swollen cock bobs against his fly. "Hey," Sebastian moves on, voice cracking, "do you and mom mind if I stop by for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Of course not," his father says. ""Is there something wrong?"
"Nope," Sebastian says. "Not at all. I finally decided what I want as a graduation present, and I was hoping we could talk about it in person."
"Well, then," his father says, mildly curious, "we'll look forward to seeing you."
"Great," Sebastian says, hopping excitedly in his seat, which does his cock no favors. "I'll see you then. Tell mom I said hi and I love her."
"I will."
Sebastian waits for his father to say good bye and disconnects the call before he slams on the gas and soars down the highway. He considers undoing his fly and rubbing one out while he drives, but he'd rather wait till he gets back to his dorm room to see if he can get Kurt on speaker phone.
He's elated, ecstatic, flying high on adrenaline and this one, lofty scheme.
It might be a reach, but if he can pull it off, he'll have everything he wants, and that, along with the possibility of jacking off to his Dom's voice before bedtime, is worth breaking a few speed limits for.
Monday afternoon, after his classes let out, Sebastian showers, dresses, texts Kurt, and leaps into his Porsche, all in the space of forty-five minutes.
"Do you really have to go to your folks tonight, preppy?" Kurt asks, calling Sebastian back after their scheduled daily text to badger him some more. "Because, you know, I don't think you've been sufficiently punished for what you did last night."
"I do have to go, Master," Sebastian says, grinning into his phone as he pulls out of the Dalton parking lot. "But, I promise, it's for a good cause."
"Any cause that's not you sucking my dick I couldn't care less about," Kurt says.
We'll see about that, Sebastian thinks, biting his tongue so he doesn't chuckle.
Sebastian hears Kurt take a drag off his cigarette.
"You know," Kurt says, strain in his voice from holding smoke in his mouth while he talks, "I don't know why I let you get away with shit like that."
"Because you fucking loved it, Master," Sebastian says, emboldened by his incredible plan. He changes gears, gunning his engine down the highway so Kurt can hear. Kurt loves the way Sebastian's Porsche purrs. It turns him on like crazy.
"Mmm," Kurt hums through a long pause, and Sebastian knows he's listening to his engine more than he's listening to him. "I don't know why I let you get away with talking to me like that, either."
"Because, you fucking love that, too, Master," Sebastian says, shifting one last time, knowing he's getting his Dom hot.
"You're right," Kurt chuckles. "I do." Sebastian hears a long drag, then Kurt blowing smoke out between his lips. Sebastian's seen Kurt do it so many times, he can picture him in his head, maybe shirtless, with his head back on the couch, phone pressed to his ear, listening to Sebastian's voice and his 6-cylinder, possibly with his hand sneaking down his chest to his pants. "Well," Kurt says in a sort of half-moan, "drive safe, preppy, and just make sure you're here tomorrow night, if not sooner."
"Will do, Master," Sebastian says.
Kurt hangs up first. He always does.
Drive safe. That one's new.
Sebastian remembers reading somewhere that drive safe is one of a hundred other ways of saying I love you without saying I love you.
Sebastian smiles, but decides not to look too much into it.
The house is quiet when he gets there - not that that's unusual, but between the hectic atmosphere at school, especially in the senior dorms, with guys stoked over graduation and their plans after that; and the chaos of life as Kurt's sub, time spent at his club, with its loud music, or at his house and everything they do together, even outside of Kurt dominating him and them fucking; his parents' house seems so peaceful, so quiet.
He loves going home, but this quiet kind of rubs Sebastian's nerves raw. It's like a giant divot carved out of what's become his real life, away from his parents and his childhood. Maybe that should seem sad, but it proves that the life he's chosen, the course he's laid out, is the right one – New York, college, possibly interning someplace high-paced.
Hopefully, with his Dom there to enjoy it with him.
Sebastian doesn't come across his mom right away, probably working out back in her garden, but he find his dad in his study, sitting behind his desk with his reading glasses on, going over contracts or paperwork or whatever. He looks up when Sebastian walks in, with a warm, bright smile on his face, and Sebastian relaxes. It's not a thin-lipped, overworked smile; it's a calm, content, easy smile. This is the version of his dad he was hoping to talk to – not businessman Arnold Smythe, who sometimes has a thick skin when it comes to matters of money; but his father Arnold Smythe, the one who might be willing to listen to reason.
"Hey," Arnold says, getting up from his desk and leaving behind his glasses to greet his son with a proper hug, "long time no see, huh, stranger?"
"Yeah, I guess," Sebastian says, hugging his father back. It's been a while since he's hugged anyone but Kurt. It feels kind of awkward. "Thanks for letting me come over."
"Any time, any time," his dad says, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know that Dalton has some of the best chefs you can find at a boarding school, but nothing beats a home-cooked meal."
"Or, at least, a meal cooked at home," Sebastian teases, since it's been close to a decade since either of his parents even stepped in to their kitchen.
"You've got me there," Arnold says with a laugh. "So, you've finally decided what you want for a graduation present." Arnold returns to his chair, and Sebastian takes the one in front of his father's desk. Now, things shift slightly. Sitting in this chair, with his father seated in his position of power, slipping his glasses back on, Sebastian feels like he's in the principal's office, or maybe at the bank, asking for a loan. "Last we spoke at the start of term, you were deciding between a summer vacation in Rome, or a new Bentley, wasn't it?"
"Actually, I've decided against either of those," Sebastian says.
"Have you?" his father says, raising a curious brow.
"Yes." Sebastian feels the start of a single nervous knot winding in his stomach. "But, I do know what I want, without a shadow of a doubt."
"Really?" His father grins at his son's declaration. "I have to say, that's refreshing. You're always so on the wire about things of this sort." Sebastian holds his tongue at the remark things of this sort. He knows what his father's hinting at. Sebastian's not all that great at making decisions period. Gifts, colleges, his whole damn life. Well, that's about to change. "Well, out with it," Arnold says. "Don't keep me in suspense."
Sebastian takes a deep breath, lets it out. A smidgen of doubt leaks in to his carefully thought out plan, but then he thinks about Kurt. He reminds himself how badly he needs Kurt, how this might be the only way he gets to keep Kurt.
After that, speaking becomes easy again.
"I want the building on West 57th."
Arnold straightens up, his lips twisting in preparation for a laugh, sure that his son has to be joking. But his son's features remain straight, his determined expression firm, and the laugh halts.
"Why do you want a rundown building as your high school graduation present?"
"I need it for an investment," Sebastian says, folding his hands in his lap, needing them clamped tight to hold him together.
"It's not really worth much of anything as is," Arnold says, more a statement of fact than an attempt to talk his son out of his decision. "It's not zoned for apartments. At best, it's a warehouse, and with the current economy, I don't think you'll be able to rent it out. I don't see how you can turn a profit from it."
"Well" - Sebastian fidgets in his seat, scooting toward the edge - "I want it to open up a night club. A very particular night club."
This time, his father lets himself laugh.
"What do you know about running a night club, Sebby?" he asks, slipping in a note of condescension that Sebastian has never appreciated. It's a tactic his dad uses when he's underbidding businesses during takeovers, to make his competitors feel inferior, and it's always made Sebastian feel like a silly, stupid child, but he can't let that derail him. This is it. He either takes it back, or he goes forward. He's ridden this rollercoaster to the top with his father other times, and he's usually bailed, but he can't this time.
Not his future, he reminds himself. This is for Kurt.
Him and Kurt, but mostly Kurt.
Sebastian had practiced what he was going to say in the car. Now he just has to get the words out. He can't lie to his dad, blow smoke in his face. This is business. One way or the other, his parents are going to find out about Kurt. At least, this way, knowing that he's a successful businessman, his father might be prejudiced in Kurt's favor.
"I know a guy," Sebastian says, the knot in his stomach becoming a lump in his chest. "He runs a night club out in Columbus." His father opens his mouth, but before he can ask what his eighteen-year-old son was doing in a night club in Columbus, Sebastian rushes on. "It's extremely popular, line out the door every night, Class A rated, five stars on Yelp, good relationship with local law enforcement, and I know for a fact that it's turning a decent profit."
Arnold's eyes open wide at his son's thorough assessment.
Sebastian sees the change, and it bolsters his confidence, but he still can't shake the feeling that he might be out of his league. This is his dad he's talking to, but Arnold Smythe happens to be a master negotiator. His mother has always told him that good things start with a single step outside your comfort zone. That's easy at school, surrounded by boys who think he's some kind of god. Here, in his father's study, with the one man who's always been able to make him feel three inches tall with a single stare, is a different story. But his father loves him. He wants the best for him. Sebastian has to convince him that opening up a night club is that thing. "I just think, well, it's kind of outgrown its venue."
"Has it?" his father asks in an even, emotion-free tone.
"I think it has," Sebastian says. "I personally feel it's the kind of place that would do well in New York, especially in that particular location, near the actors' district, close to Hell's Kitchen. I mean, it does extremely well out here, and the neighborhood it's in isn't really part of its target demographic."
Arnold nods. He actually seems impressed by the persuasiveness of Sebastian's speech.
"So, you feel it's a good investment?"
Sebastian nods. He can't get a vocal affirmation out yet. Still, he should feel more nervous than he does. He was sweating bullets the whole ride here. But talking it over with his dad, discussing it out loud as if it's an actual, viable possibility, Sebastian doesn't feel all that anxious. He believes everything he's saying.
He believes in Kurt.
"I think so," Sebastian says. "It just needs the opportunity to spread its wings."
Arnold Smythe looks at his son, appraising him from a non-biased perspective. The person he sees sitting in front of him is a nervous teenager with a brilliant idea, but there's something more to it, something his son isn't telling him. But Arnold can't deny that if this night club is doing as well as Sebastian claims, he'd be a fool not to jump in on the ground floor of its expansion.
Besides, he wants to encourage his son to pursue his interests, not sit around and live off his trust fund for the rest of his life the way he and his mother were afraid he might do.
Sebastian has found a direction – finally. Arnold's going to let him follow it. Even if it fails, Sebastian can say he did something.
"Fine," Arnold says, opening the bottom drawer to his desk and thumbing through his hanging files. "You can have the building." He pulls out a folder and sets it on the blotter in front of Sebastian. "Those are some photocopies of the deed, the appraiser's report, photographs and whatnot. I'll have official documents drawn up for you in the morning. But in the meantime, you can show those to your young man."
Sebastian wants to smirk when his father calls Kurt his young man.
Sebastian wishes Kurt was.
"Thanks," he says, replacing his want for a smirk with a much more apropos smile of gratitude. "I really appreciate this."
"Well, Mr. Valedictorian, I would say you deserve it. I hope this investment goes well for you."
"I do, too," Sebastian agrees, fingering the label on the folder that says West 57th. "I do, too."
Arnold notices the far off look in his son's eyes, and he thinks, he suspects he might know what it's about. Arnold doesn't want to ask. His son's an adult now, and he doesn't want to belittle him by making this opportunity out to be all about sex, but still, he knows his son. Whether Sebastian thinks so or not, Arnold knows about his son's behavior at school, has been clued in by counselors and teachers about how Sebastian interacts with certain members of the student body. Arnold has yet to say anything to Sebastian about it, though. He doesn't feel the need to interfere. His son's grades are exceptional, he's responsible for the most part, and besides, none of the other parents have approached the Smythes directly about his son's behavior. But here, he feels a need to step in, interject a level head.
Arnold doesn't believe that business partners make good bedfellows, so if that part of this arrangement falls through, someone needs to be around to keep the business afloat. There's no need for drama here. He'll be damned if the Smythes turn into the Kardashians.
"And while you're at it, why don't you write me up a prospectus? I might be interested in some new venture capital myself."
Sebastian's eyes snap up from the folder to look at his father's face.
"That would be…that would be great," he says, floored by his father's offer, something he never dreamed would come his way. "I'll do that."
"Good. Give me a second to shoot Lawrence a prelim, then you and I will join your mother for dinner." Arnold winks at his son, a somewhat foreign gesture coming from his straight-laced dad. "You can tell her all about your big news."
Hopefully, all your big news, Arnold thinks.
"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that." Sebastian feels lightheaded, watching his father open up his laptop to send an email to the head of his investment team. His father only ever jumps on projects when he has a genuine vested interest. The lump in Sebastian's chest and the knot in his stomach break free, and it's all he can do not to leap out of his chair and fist pump the air.
Stage one of his plan to get Kurt to New York – done.
He found Kurt a location, a perfect location. Sebastian couldn't have asked for a better place if he tried. And his dad went along with it. He'll have to ponder the amazing that that is later, but for now, he's going to coast on his high.
Plus, he also managed to knock off a hidden part 1.0 - he got Kurt a second investor (aside from himself). A lucrative investor.
All he has to do now is get Kurt on board.
That's where his plan stalls. Kurt seems dead set on staying in Ohio. Sebastian's not even sure if news as outrageous as this will change his mind. There's some other obstacle in the way that Sebastian hasn't seen. It's not Kurt's father. New York is close enough for him to visit whenever he wants – at least as much as he's visiting now, which seems to be Thanksgiving, Christmas, Father's Day, birthdays, and the occasional doctor's appointment.
Kurt doesn't have some bizarre loyalty to his home state – not the way he talks about it being the slime ball, hell pit, butthole, backwards blind cousin of the United States.
There's something else. But the likelihood that Kurt will tell him what is 50/50 at this point.
No. He has to try to find a way of convincing Kurt that doesn't rely on him knowing any of Kurt's secrets. He needs an in, a back door, and for that, he's going to need the help of someone he loathes, who just so happens to loathe him back, who's actually Sebastian's biggest competition when it comes to the fight for Kurt's affections.
Elliott.